Chef D'oeuvre
by Kiryu Al
Summary: Rich green orbs were fixated on him, drinking in his presence yearningly, as his hands crafted, molded and caressed her being into something disastrous… something beautiful.
1. Prologue

**Ok, first off… this idea somewhat came into being after a needless banter between** **Aegri Somnia Vana** **and I, and so I would like to credit her for corrupting my green brain that was doing so well until it became obsessed with the following plot. (Also a huge thanks for alpha reading my awful scripts and for the helpful advice. TOT)**

 **That being said, the following is an obnoxious mess (haha!) inspired by both the folktales of Peter Pan and Frankenstein set in an alternate MFB universe (which means that there will be no beyblades).**

 **I hope you enjoy it.**

 **Feedback is welcomed.**

 **PS: The prologue might seem vague. I'm sure it will make more sense later on. :D**

* * *

 **Chef D'oeuvre**

 **Prologue**.

Midnight blue stretched over the horizon, dominating it with a grace that was awe-inspiring. Silence thick and heavy swirled in damp currents in the air, carried by the indolent breeze. Sophie stood at the corner of the seemingly abandoned street, head raised to gaze at the starless sky, blank and monotonous.

Her hands sought to hold herself against the flickering lamppost, the spill of halogen orange on the ground in a perfect circle though unsteady, plunging her surroundings with brightness only to eagerly snatch it away. The wind that lethargically danced around her scantily dressed form managed to chill her to the core, the ragged torn white dress fluttering leisurely with the breeze when she let her head lay lax against the metallic support, body collapsing in a slump as the fatigue of the run finally caught up to her, the high from the adrenaline subsiding.

A vulnerable sigh escaped her, the wave of fear channelled by unfamiliarity washing over her as she tried to bottle her emotions.

Flicker. Light. A bright tawny auburn embraced her curves, highlighting her presence in the empty and dead pathway.

Flicker. Darkness. A serene cover of black hid her under its protective cover, obscuring.

Blink. Her attention is suddenly diverted by the pebbles lying at her feet, unmoving, inanimate.

Blink. Engulfed into a spell of blindness, visited by gloomy black, her eyes feel heavy with every second, every minute bleeding slowly with the unrelenting rhythm.

She hears the rustle. Goosebumps line her skin.

Flicker. Breath hitches. A shadow. Still. Frozen. Olive-green orbs flit up, petrified.

Flicker. Anticipation. _Please… no…_ A frightened scramble backwards, the whimper caught up in her throat.

Her vision is cut off by the lack of light, the sudden stab of dark clawing at her with harsh vindictiveness. Even then her mind projects the upcoming series of events with a clarity that binds her in place, horror etched into her skin.

The emerald orbs shift, uncertainty and fear clouding her vision, mind in a loop repeating one phrase over and over. _He is here. He is there. He is here_

She can see him, clear as day.

The barely there tilt to his head, a scruffy mess of auburn strands drooping upon one eye, covering the dead cerulean inhabiting his iris. She can picture the sharp angles of his face, the contours crafting his face artfully even though all she sees is a silhouette, blurry, virtual.

She waits. Her heart thuds destructively within her.

She waits, knowing yet intent on trying to believe something she knows is untrue.

She waits, so she deceive her feeble mind into thinking it's a trick, a hallucination.

Flicker. She can't breathe.

He smirks, "This cat and mouse play is tiring, ay love?"


	2. Chapter 1

**A few important things to take into notice… Sophie's last name is Nyheter for this composition and the age difference between Julian and her is relatively more when compared to the difference between Nero and Sophie. (I am not putting the exact numbers for the sake of the plot and because I don't think it's rather necessary as of yet…) As far as Wales is concerned… well let us get to him after a few things have been cleared in the next chapter. Also, italics mostly refer to flashbacks, in other words sad trips down memory lane. :D Again, if anything remains unclear I would like you to be patient, it will make sense soon. Hopefully.**

 **Thank you for the positive response.**

 **I hope you enjoy the chapter.**

 **Feedback as always is welcomed.**

* * *

 **Chef D'oeuvre**

 **Night or Day**

She awaited the night. She awaited the sweet blissful dark bringing with it a soothing silence when she could replay the faulty memories implanted in her mind,memories she thought to be true, real… definite.

. . .

 _Giggles break out, artificial light streaming through the net drapes neatly covering the windows._

 _Her voice is pitchy and loud, body a wriggling mess above the soft springy mattress. "Mom, no! Hehehe, stop! Oh, please." The world spins – she topples down from the bed. "Shtop!"_

" _Come back here, young lady. It's bedtime."_

 _Another mirth filled giggle falls from her little lips as she lays there, legs limply spread and propped against the bedside, her bum down on the floor._

 _The woman, she remembers, is beautiful, her hair a pristine color, navy yet so pale that it resembles white. Her smile is patient, eyes loving. She is holding pyjamas, the color sky-blue adorned with little orcas drawn across it._

" _Mommy, nooo! I want to stay up until he comes. He'll come. He told me he would."_

 _Her mother with a small smile picks her up, slipping her small and petite form into the night clothes._

" _I'll wake you up when he does, okay darling?" A twinkle settles in her eyes as she presses her lips to her temple, guiding the little girl into the bed. A kiss. Endearment._

 _Pinky finger lifted, Sophie grins, "Promise?"_

 _Her mother chuckles, "Promise."_

 _. . ._

They seem so vibrant, so alive; just like he did, just like she does. Emerald orbs follow the outlines of her hourglass frame as she stands, sliding down the silky embellishing gown until it pools at her feet. Sophie observes her reflection with a wave of dread pulling her to the gentle tide splashing at her feet. Her hair wan and crystalline coalesces into curls just above her breasts, a gentle sway to the locks as she steps forward, toes dipping into the wet earth. She observes the how goose-pimples prickle her skin when the cold water caresses her feet, a shiver running up her spine. She observes how the water slides between her legs, meandering with a still grace, her shadow under the moonlight following.

. . .

" _What's that?"_

 _She was pointing and he looked positively amused as he pulled her into his lap, "That's…" He paused, his handsome cerulean eyes glinting, "A shadow."_

" _A shadow?" Sophie repeated drawlingly, looking up and back at him. "That's not possible."_

 _All he did was cock his head, "Is that so?"_

" _Yes," Sophie said firmly, sitting up and his arms around her waist tightened their hold, a fondness to the act, when she started bookishly reciting the next sentences, "A shadow needs light and an obtuse object that blocks the path of light. It has none."_

 _Wales, as she had named her daily visitor, chuckled, the following words a soft whisper, something menacing slipping into the tone of his voice which the little eleven year old could not quite pick out, "Sophie," he pronounced her name slowly at which the child's attention diverted towards him, "Do you believe in magic?"_

 _A huff escaped her pouting lips and she in all her childish youth, puffed her chest up and answered, "No, but I believe in science."_

 _. . ._

Sophie continues forward until the unmoving stream soaks her body till her neck and eyes closed, she tries to drown herself into the entrapping lake water.

Her lips split trying to gulp in much needed air.

This was real.

Water fills her lungs. A choke, a push, a gasp. She coughs violently, watching a small globule of blood splattered in the mud falling from her chewed bottom lip.

She was real.

. . .

" _He's real."_

" _Sophie dear… He is not…He's…_ imaginary _…He's not_ _—_ _"_

 _But Sophie's ground was astute, her voice not betraying emotion of any kind if the word 'imaginary' triggered any. "You should stay; when he comes I'll ask him to meet you."_

 _Mother looked at Father and Sophie was able to read her hesitation and so the thirteen year old, an adolescent teen as she proudly categorized herself, stepped forward, creases appearing on her forehead trying to make them_ see _but no matter hard she tried they just could not._

 _Wales said it was because they had grown up, because adults lost the gift of sight which every child possessed as they grew older because they stopped believing._

 _But Sophie knew if she could just convince them to let Wales visit them too they would see. She knew it. She believed it._

 _. . ._

He watched her.

Tears streamed from her eyes in currents symbolizing her pain as he held her, cradling her naked body as her lips shook and she pushed her head to his chest, her nails biting into his skin, urgent and demanding. "Make it stop… Please, make it stop… I don't want to… I _don't_ want to anymore…"

His voice was emotionless and unforgiving. "But you still believe."

. . .

 _Mouth agape, tremors of panic cause her body to shudder. She wobbles on her feet, hands suddenly trying to reach for anything to hold herself up, transfixed. She needs to scream, to throw up, to do_ something _but at the moment she just stares, her mind carving the scene into her memory mercilessly._

 _His hand covers her mouth and Sophie finds that she does not have the strength to fight back so she just gives in to his unrelenting pull, collapsing in his taut grip, her wrecked self only able to muster up one word from her chapped lips._

" _Mother…"_

 _. . ._

The redhead caresses her hair tenderly, "You can't run again, Sophie. I don't like it when you try to run away, sweetheart." He's whispering now, lips brushing against the shell of her ear and a shiver runs through her, his voice rich and dark and… suffocating, "You remember what happened last time, don't you?"

But she is not paying attention to his words; her gaze is fixed on the flickering flame. Small embers smolder as the blaze eats up the wood crackling and sizzling under the hold of fire. It numbs her, kills a crucial part of her being. Orchestrated misery.

. . .

" _Who are you?"_

" _I can be anyone you want."_

 _A little giggle. "What is that supposed to mean? Don't you have a name?"_

 _His gaze never faltered, "No."_

" _How is that possible? I have to call you something."_

 _The older boy simply shrugged, eyes like ice shards regarding her with an intensity horrifying when she gave him a toothy grin and said, "Umm… we have to think of something then… oh, oh! I got it. I'll call you… Wales!"_

 _He questioningly looked at her, "Wales?"_

" _Yes, because you like whales right? You made one for me with your shadow when we first met. I like whales, you like whales. So let's call you Wales, it sounds the same and we can keep the origin a secret," Sophie said mischievously._

 _He only smirked, "Wales it is."_

 _She held out a hand, "It's nice to meet you, Wales. I am Sophie."_

 _He took it, testing her name on his tongue, rolling it off slowly, carefully, a haunting grin stretching his lips when he lifted her hand to place a chaste kiss, "Pleasure's all mine, Sophie…"_

* * *

She awaited the day. She waited to feel the warmth of the burning sun, wanted to lift her chin up so she could soak up the reality of what was present and what was not until it was burned into her skin like a tan, marking her, coloring her lifeless soul.

. . .

"Sophie?"

"Uh… sorry… can you please repeat the question," She breathed, gulped actually, her head jerking up to find the whole class pointedly speculating her, a few murmurs already like a low wave spreading around the hall.

The lecturer's face was blank yet somehow Sophie was able to read the exasperation, "I asked the normal procedure pointing towards asphyxiation."

"Asphyxiation," Sophie pronounced with a little nod. "Yes, uh…"

 _Asphyxiation,_ She thought, scourging her mind for the right indicators, _Signs of strangulation, clawing… clawing at the ears especially… and, and bruising, laryngeal trauma, congestion of the face mostly accompanied by ligature marks._

The blunette raised her hand to lightly massage the back of her neck and looked up to answer but something in the blue of his eyes stopped her.

. . .

 _The pictures highlighted the wounds, the bruises, the contorting marks left on their skin as the officer displayed them, trying to get the teenager to cooperate. She was clearly in a state of shock, delirium, insisting someone had murdered her parents, but too afraid to utter a name and the proof pointed in the other direction anyway._

 _Officer Klaus regarded the traumatized teen as he stood up with a sigh, "Sophie, your mother died of asphyxiation. She suffocated due to the leak in the gas valves, due to carbon monoxide poisoning because of haemoglobin's affinity for it is more compared to oxygen. The lack of oxygen in her blood caused her cells to die out at a vigorous rate, the same happened to your father."_

 _Her laugh was bitter, sarcastic and on the periphery lay a scoff, "That's_ not _what happened!" She pleaded, "Why won't you believe me?"_

 _Arms were crossed, "The post-mortem report indicates all of it_ _—_ _"_

 _She swallowed… Annoyance. "Then how come I escaped? How did this gas not affect_ me _?!"_

" _I'm surprised you escaped unharmed. We're thankful_ _—_ _"_

 _Fury. "I don't want you to be thankful! I want you to listen to what I am saying!" Her voice began to break. "You have to believe me... Please… It's not what killed them. They didn't die of a…" Another sour laugh. Skepticism. "Gas." She rubbed her temples. "They were_ murdered. _"_

 _The cop ground his teeth in an irritated manner, "By whom?"_

 _The seventeen year old's eyes strayed toward him, lips parting to speak, until she considered her words then shut her mouth, gaping at her hands once again._

 _Leaning forward, Klaus attempted to coax something out of her, "Miss," He started, then said, "Sophie," She looked up, and he continued, "We need you to cooperate. If you know anything… No information given out will put you in harm's way. It will only help clear this. It will help_ you _. We will make sure of that."_

 _He stressed on all the right places, holding eye contact trying to let her embrace the air of trust he put out, signalled for, but all that she muttered was, lips quivering and looking utterly lost, "They were murdered…"_

 _Over and over… and nothing new came out of this, Klaus had officially given up when he left the room, leaving her to wallow in her pain and misery, the inevitability of loss shattering her as she stayed there._

. . .

"Miss Nyheter? Am I right in suspecting you don't know the answer?"

Someone nudged her and her trip down memory lane abruptly had a detour flinging her to reality. Her head jerked around to find herself staring at the restrained and solemn eyes of Nero Konzern as he slowly lifted his chin in the direction of the lecturer. A silent signal.

The notorious student council head suddenly shook her head and tumbled over the words, "Yes, I mean, no…"Sophie's hands fiddled with the hem of her shirt clammily, "Uh, I apologize. Asphyxiation… it is mostly characterized by signs of strangulation and congestion—"

Disappointment registered on the man's face directing her, "Please, sit down, Sophie. Nero has already answered for you."

A few snickers resonated, dying out with the raised hand of Julian Konzern, who continued to stare at his student, curiosity and something akin to worry gleaming visibly in his eyes.

"Oh…" A blush crept up her cheeks and flustered, she slumped down in her seat, not able to look at her partner.

Nero sighed.

* * *

"You're spacing out more than usual," Nero stated monotonously as if he were just commenting on the weather.

"I…" Sophie swiped a hand above her face, "I am just tired."

At that, Nero looked at her, face a mask like his older brother, Julian, intense and scrutinising. Sophie gulped. Sometimes they looked so alike that it almost scared her.

The Konzerns had taken her in when her parents had died. News spread quickly in the small town of Bayshire and the traumatic event was what the idle people talked for weeks reminding Sophie over and over how the lie was fed to the county men, stoked with whispers, thoughts and opinions as it blazed around like rapid fire, everyone slipping in additional details of what happened, how a deadly gas killed the Nyheters, leaving only their daughter, Sophie Nyheter, age sixteen, who was found hidden at the corner of the room, huddled beside the bedside the table. Sole survivor, they had called her, Sole survivor of the Nyheter tragedy. The mere thought made her nauseous.

The Konzerns had been and still were a renowned family of traders - businessmen. Like the rich and elegant in large cities, the family was almost like nobility in the town, held in the highest regard. They had a fair and dominant hand in the political situation of their isolated county and were amongst the main benefactors the growing city had. The direct line consisted of Julian and Nero Konzern treated and brought up like princes. When they as a gratifying gesture provided for Sophie with shelter, she was dutifully regarded as a princess, a valuable addition in their household. Given the choice to actually embrace the family name Konzern, Sophie had refused. She was Sophie Nyeheter and would remain a Nyheter. After all, it was she had left of her parents, her family… her identity.

Julian, the older son, was the most stoic and determined man Sophie had ever met, most down to earth yet vicious in all his composed and silent glory. Ever since Sophie had become a part of the household, she had seen Julian as a reserved boy keeping to himself, never indulging in the leisurely and idle activities men at his age often occupied themselves with.

Nero, on the other hand, was totally different story. Playful, naughty and the ever sly youth though quite younger than her was a prodigious child, one the Konzerns were proud of. He was the one in line for inheriting the fortune the family possessed, which had intrigued Sophie to a great extent and she had consulted the reason for it with Julian over dinner once. Silence had suddenly at her question clasped the atmosphere in a taut grip. He had looked at her coldly then composure gained the reply she got was that he did not hold any _interest_. Their father obviously took Julian's view as an insult, disregarding him almost immediately. Sophie had simply watched silently.

Amongst the two Sophie had found that she was more drawn Julian. Something in his authoritative nature was alluring, entrapping. He had an air of a leader, a head, decisive almost to a fault. So contempt naturally rooted its hold in Sophie's heart when she witnessed how Julian was ousted, disowned. She tried to get a hold of him, tried to knock some sense into him but the older boy's ground was resolute and he had left.

' _Disgrace… Never thought he'd call me that,' He had chuckled, something sour taking the place of mirth._

' _He doesn't mean it, Julian. You have to understand that–'_

' _Oh, he means it alright and I think that my stay at a place where I am labelled as a disgrace is not of much favour both to him and I.'_

When she was enrolled in the most illustrious school for forensic science and found out the familiar face standing from across the hall, she had immediately sought out Nero. Getting in for the little genius was almost too easy a task and when they had confronted their brother, Julian had dismissed the idea of ever returning.

But who said Sophie and Nero were giving up that easily?

They were on a mission. ' _Mission impossible,' Nero had said, laughing, 'I'm Tom Cruise and you can be my little assistant, anyone you want to be from all the movies. Just that you're role is secondary.' To which Sophie had simply scoffed._

Features hardening with the shadow of concern, Nero snapped his fingers to break her out of reverie when she wistfully frowned at the memory. She looked up and he stared at her questioningly until it faded and a grin stretched his lips slowly. "Want to skip class and head out, Spacey? You look like you need it," He offered slyly.

 _There's the Nero I know,_ Sophie thought with a little shake to her head, an automatic smile pulling her lips upwards. "Sure."

Nero clicked his tongue, mischief rooted deep into the words, "Julian's going to gut us though."

Sophie smirked, "All the better."

* * *

 **This was simply a back-story of a sort. Which wasn't boring, I hope. Also, I googled signs of asphyxiation… so I am** _ **trusting**_ **(read as assuming) them to be true. Looked trustable enough. Haha.**

 **Oh and I made up Bayshire. It's not a real town... or it might just be... who knows. xD**

 **Well see you soon. With another chapter. Obviously. =O**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chef D'oeuvre**

 **Perspective**

Grief was engrossing, dangerous.

To Julian it has always seemed so. He finds the ideology of the ordeal _wrong_ , the footing and foundations of the whole concept frail and weak.

His hand lightly trails above the thin woollen thread tied across the two tables. Indenting somewhere in the middle, the little bridge twists, small threadlike protrusions erupting as both sides try to persevere at the same time relenting as if wanting to let go, to ease the strain of holding on. Pressing his hand down, he stares, the pressure applied on the feeble thread piece is increasing; it starts to bend.

. . .

Julian, being the eldest son in the Konzern family, is taken along to many city council meetings. He is first born, heir to the family and so he understands the need to learn, observe, to _know_ how things work. He always displays interest in the local matters of their county, empathizes with the opinions of others no matter how foolish they seem, trying to regard them with a certain degree of consideration. They do not pay much mind to him because he is young and his say does not hold any significance because of the lack of experience, but not once has that reasoning unsettled the young man. He often deliberately seeks such an opportunity because as they ignore him, he observes; because when they do not regard his presence with the weight it should be, they slip off their masks that they so obscurely wear—unintentionally of course. However though they think it has gone unnoticed, it clearly has not.

Julian recognizes the need for manipulation, knows how the board of chess is recreated in real life, understands the importance of playing the right piece… and for that simple reason he tries to stay aware of his surroundings.

So when it finally happens he already knows the townspeople are scared. He can see it, like a surge running through the whole county with the deadly slow speed of poison; after all he is not a fool. He also knows why because rumors rush through the small world they have enclosed themselves in with swiftness that is lethal.

However, when he sees the girl standing in the middle of the main hall of the Konzern residence, looking helpless, frightened, it is the last thing that crosses his mind. Her hands clench by her sides, the movement could be easily read as nervousness, but there is something peculiar to it which Julian finds intriguing. Her hair is a very pale shade of blue and is loosely tied up into a ponytail and she wears a baggy undershirt that falls to her knees, which are quivering—anxiety again?

The moment he enters, he knows his presence is not welcomed.

"Julian?" It's his father, voice firm and harsh. The whole hall falls silent, but Julian is distracted, his gaze is set upon the girl, unmoving, speculating. He recognises her, has seen her before, searches his mind brutally for the answer, problem is he cannot pin point where.

"Julian."

His head snaps, an ordinary response at the call of one's name, the polite yet monotonous "Yes, Father?" slipping easily from his lips.

"What are you doing here?"

What exactly? Julian blinks. His father's gaze is stern, unforgiving. And he knows why.

Though Julian is hurled along to many meetings, there are those where he is purposely left behind. For years he has wondered why is that so? What sort of matters is he not ready to face as of yet? And as he understands that he still is learning and there are things he does not fully grasp yet, he asks quite frequently when and how will he mature to that _level_ , his father so impassively mentions.

But where Julian understands, Julian also does not.

His gaze flits back to the girl. Her eyes are a brilliant bright and glistening shade of olive-green. Tears. Grief. He blinks again as if it could help improve his perspective, his way of looking at things. He has seen her somewhere. Pale blue hair. Green eyes. She's young, fifteen maybe? Fourteen? There is something in her hands, something he cannot see. It is the way she clenches her hand as if she is grabbing something, clutching or merely groping blindly to find something that is supposed to be there.

Pale blue hair.

 _The woman is petite and what would people term as beautiful. There is a charm to her features, to the curvature of her lips when she smiles at him warmly._

Green eyes.

 _The man beside her has eyes of a peculiar shade, the green quite different as he used to seeing. Gold specks dance around the bright green and Julian makes a note._

 _Someone suddenly crashes into him causing him to lurch ahead, however he manages to get his footing right, impeding the fall and jerks his head around._

 _The child is holding a stuffed animal is her hand, black and white, an orca, Julian thinks offhandedly. She looks up with a muttered apology and then hurriedly scuffles beside the woman, hiding behind her._

Pale blue hair. Green eyes.

" _I apologize," The woman starts off, hands caressing the locks of the child shifting beside her, "Sophie is a little excited today."_

Sophie… Sophie Nyheter.

Julian knows he's gaping at her and therefore, he only faintly registers that someone is escorting him outside, none too gently.

* * *

" _I am David… David Nyheter and this is my wife, Helen."_

 _He only nods – a sufficient greeting. "Julian Konzern. Father mentioned that you would be arriving tomorrow."_

" _Ah, yes… We were needed so we thought why wait?"_

 _The young heir blinked, and then nodded once again, a curve slowly stretching his lips. Ushering was in his opinion a fair task, he had a good look before the masks were worn and appearances were set in place. If the masks were crisp they could be broken because he was their first encounter and one always at the start can give in to loopholes, it takes time to get into character, to fall into rhythm with the flow of another skin, and if the act was not flawlessly prepared, there would always be holes in the fabric of the weaved personality. Julian searched for the tatters in their appearance. However, there was something too real about the couple. Too simple. Too genuine._

* * *

She stares at him back, something akin to recognition fluttering in her eyes. "Julian-niisan?"

Julian would be lying if just the utter of his name with the honorific does not cause a ripple of agitation to suddenly overwhelm the room. It is almost fascinating and awful at the same time. Each and every pair of eyes shifts and glues onto him like a strong adhesive. He realises that he is not being pushed out any longer. But the most important reaction might be of his father, something precariously close to shock.

They are scared, shocked, speculating.

Julian caught Sophie's gaze again. _They look agitated…_

Murmurs broke out like taunting hisses and Julian's breath hitched. _This was not good…_

It was then that he had realised that this was not just a council meeting. He spotted Rago at the far end corner watching the whole scene unfold with a certain degree of amusement. The ruthless man was commander of the armed forces in charge of allied forces under a corporation titled Nemesis. Julian always found it odd that the party that was to rescue them was named after the God of destruction and in other literature like the Greek texts after the Goddess of Revenge. Aguma, who was a bulky man, head of the Beylin temple was seated on the right hand corner, looking solemn. His first mate, as Julian liked to think of Bao as, fidgeting beside him. On the left hand side he saw the representatives from Japan, a spiky haired man blinking owlishly, the young woman, Hikaru, if Julian remembered her name right, scribbled something frenetically in a notepad.

 _Not good at all…Why were international representatives here to discuss a local matter? The matter_ was _grave but…_

"Julian—niisan!" The girl ran over towards him and Julian found himself smiling warmly towards her, instantly distracted.

* * *

 _It was all small talk, background check and all… "I heard you were working with some scientists over in Japan before this."_

" _Yes, for five years now. Sophie was born there."_

 _The young heir looked down at the little bundle of mischief. "I see. Do you like Japan more or England, Sophie-chan?"_

" _Sophie-hime! Not chan!" The little girl corrected, shoving the orca right at his face. "I am a princess and Wales said that I will have a kingdom of my own! So you should treat your future queen with more respect!"_

 _The girl was looking at him, hands at her hips, tutting him with her orca toy which Julian thought was her way to look and sound intimidating but it only pulled a laugh from his lips._

" _Anything for my queen." Julian respectfully bowed and Sophie beamed, arms locked around his neck. "Ride, Julian-niisan! Let's go ride the horses!"_

 _When Helen had moved to remove the child's unrelenting grip, Julian had laughed and picked Sophie up. "Anything the queen commands."_

" _You'll spoil her, Julian."_

 _Julian had shrugged. "Hardly."_

* * *

His father had stood up from he was seated at the centre and looked at him gravely; the whole situation reminding Julian of a bad replica of those old temple movies, with crazy kings and equally crazy advisors, "What is the meaning of this, Julian? You know this…" Disgust curled his lips, "This freak of nature?"

A bad movie indeed.

Julian blinked accompanied by a gritting of teeth, "Sophie. Her name is Sophie Nyheter, Father. And I hardly think you of all people would be superstitious enough to believe some rumours."

He could not pin point why he defended her, his behaviour was not tolerable. He had corrected his Father in front of an audience which was insolent and foolish which was probably why his father's face had moulded into an expression of blazing fury, hidden behind a very composed mask which one watching could not ever discern but one look and Julian knew he had made a grave mistake.

Sophie was clutching his shirt, his hand as she hid behind him.

"The child is a murderer; Satan in the form of innocence."

Julian's head had jerked towards the voice and before he could throw the retort at Rago's smug and irrational self, another voice, calm and smooth, had risen.

"Satan? You're referring to a child who has just watched her parents get _murdered_ as Satan? That conclusion is rather foolish."

Julian stared at the young man, hands folded too coolly beside him but his face betrayed his exasperation. He was also a representative from Japan. Tsubasa.

"Foolish?" Rago retorted, "This is a serious matter, boy! This girl _killed_ her parents. Helen and David Nyheter who were great scientists, essential to us, our purp-"

Tsubasa scoffed. "Really, _commander_? Really? You're going to blame a fifteen year old for a perfectly orchestrated death? She's hardly capable. And since Helen and David were so _essential_ to us, have you ever given the following a thought that some enemy, a rival, or someone against our motives might have planned the death?"

The word echoed, "Enemy?"

Rago dismissed it with a wave of hand, "There is no _enemy_. This work we do," He said with another gesture of his hand, "Is approved by a number of governments and I control the best intelligence officers right now present on this damned Earth! And, I unlike you am _experienced_ so when I tell you that this not the work of skilled killer, assassin that our _mythical_ enemy could have sent to eliminate one of our most prized-"

"Enough."

Julian's voice was stern.

He was not supposed to be doing this. This defiance would have consequences. Ones he will regret, he knew. But still he continued.

Hand clasping around hers, Julian boldly looked up at his father, "Sophie shall stay with us. I vouch for her safety, for her guardianship if it offends you, Father. But letting her fend herself at the hands of vultures is the last thing I would stand to watch. Her parents were close to our family, and not providing aid to their heir would be against our rules, our morals after such a tragedy."

He knew he was trapping his father using the presence of so many important people. He knew it would work. He was sure.

He knew it would lead him into a situation he would not be able to avoid. He was sure.

"Are these the etiquettes of first born of the great Konzern family?" Rago continued his tirade. "Do you let him speak in such an insolent manner, Arturo?"

Arturo Konzern, father of Julian and Nero Konzern, the most influential man in all of Italy, looked at his son, face blank, words searing. "You take all responsibility for Miss Nyheter?"

He should not. Defiance. Consequences.

His lips were dry, a knot in his throat, "Yes."

"Art-"

"This meeting has come to an end, gentlemen and ladies." Mr. Konzern stood up, interrupting the agitated dialogue that Rago was about to continue. "We were to decide Miss Nyheter's fate and my son has very voluntarily provided us with the solution."

His father's eyes were cold, the word voluntarily like a haunting sentence hanging in the air; Julian did not mull over it, when he brushed past the police chief, Klaus, who looked at him sympathetically.

Julian had held onto Sophie's hand and walked out, not once looking back.

. . .

Hand pressing down, Julian stares, trying to savor the exact moment it severs, the connection, the bridge, the entirety of the situation, so he can see past it, so he can allow himself to heal.

. . .

"She is your responsibility. You will look into her previous records, get her enrolled and make a respectable member out of her. Etiquettes, rules, _morals_."

 _He did not add 'of this family', saying the last three words with vindictiveness._

"Nero will be handling the affairs of the Konzern family—"

 _He pointed out 'Konzern' as if the word 'our' did not hold._

"—as I suppose you will busy with Miss Nyheter—"

 _It was a command. I was to keep myself busy._

"After all, he needs to learn this because he will one day take over all this."

 _It was not supposed to sting… It was not supposed to cause something to smolder and burn inside me._

Julian looked up, hands twitching, balling into fists.

 _He never ended his sentence with 'from you'._

Julian pretended not to notice.

His nod was respectful as he crumbled a little inside, "Yes, Father."

. . .

His vision was blurry as he fidgeted, bringing his hand up and then down with swiftness, chopping the piece of thread. He did not grieve. Konzerns did not grieve. He stood by his decision because Konzerns did what they thought was right and then stood firm by it.

Sophie was not mistake.

She needed him and he would help her always. She was the sister he never had.

Sophie was not a mistake.

Konzerns did not grieve.

Too bad he was not one.

Not anymore.

* * *

 **Ok... I wanted to get this done... Shed light on Julian's background. I hope you enjoyed it. More is to be revealed soon. Stay tuned!**

 **(Also... I'm going to fall down and sleep, haha. So this might have mistakes for which I apologize. And I was also unsure about his father... so I named him Arturo? Thoughts? Does it sound okay? Haha. xD And I feel like Rago is hard to write... ~pout~ Anyways .. just tell me what you thought about this!)**


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